The Dirty Truce
by bah-humbug06
Summary: Draco. Ginny. Brooms. Mud. And a series of vignettes...
1. The Dirty Truce

A/N: Not mine. Wish they were. We can all weep together, my friends...

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The Dirty Truce

Fuck.

He couldn't see it. He couldn't see the snitch. Stupid fucking ball. Draco had been flying around looking for that damned ball for the better part of the afternoon, in the pouring rain no less. And it was getting dark – it was Scotland, after all. At this rate they'd be here all night. It wasn't as though you could just leave in the middle of a match.

Potter's losing his touch. Draco almost wished he'd get on with it, just so he could get inside and dry off.

Almost.

He swept the pitch with his eyes, circling. Harry was doing the same, on the other side, both copying the other, making sudden moves, then reneging, trying to unsettle the other.

He looked at the stands. He could see Granger up there, cheering her heart out, even after others had given up, moving only when someone scored a rare goal. Draco was faintly aware of a buzz growing around him, spinning up from the stands below. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter, streaking away towards the far end of the pitch.

He swooped, and gave chase, the wind flipping his hair into his face, eyes stinging with the wind, straining against the pelting rain. The pitch flew by; then changed direction. One of Gryffindor's lot cut him off, colliding into him. There was a mess of broom and player, locked together, speeding towards the ground at an alarming rate.

Fuck. Bloody buggering hell! Grabbing in vain to his broom as his hands slipped on the slick handle, he found his grip on material, pulling the other player off their broom just as –

Thud.

He hit the ground, before something landed on him

He gingerly opening his eyes, and saw red.

"Fuck." That seemed to be his favorite word these days. "Which one of you is it?"

"Which do you think?"

"Weaslette? What the fuck are you playing at? You could have killed us both?"

"Only one of us would've been missed," she muttered, cursing as she tried to sit up.

"What was that?" hissed Draco, pulling her roughly down onto him again. "I didn't quite hear you."

"I said, that no one would miss a death eating bastard like you." she lifted her head and met his eyes, glaring for all her might. Icy eyes stared back. He'd had enough of all the shite that lot had been playing.

"Right, you little runt. I'm sick of all the shite you lot have been shoveling my way. Death eating bastard, am I? Take a look, Weasley, take a good look," he sneered, lifting the left sleeve of his quidditch uniform.

Her eyes widened, glued to his arm. She lifted a tentative finger, tracing it lightly over his pale, unblemished skin. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, snapping him out of his reverie. He snatched his arm away, buttoning up the sleeve.

"I am not my father. I will not be enslaved. Now get off me," his tone changing. "You made me all muddy."

"It wasn't as if you were clean, anyway," she said, climbing off him gracefully.

"You're a vicious, self-righteous little bitch, aren't you." She turned, and began to walk away, only to be pulled around. A handful of mud found her face, thrown from a good foot above her.

"Malfoy!" she yelled, wiping sludge from her eyes. A smirk graced his face. Deftly she scooped up mud of her own, grabbing the back of his quidditch robes as he walked away, dumping it down his back. He froze, feeling the icky substance sliding down his spine.

He turned, slowly, and stalked towards her, intimidatingly, his face inches for hers.

"You don't scare me," she whispered. Years of experience, from growing up with six brothers, had taught her many things, and now, she thought, was the perfect time to use them. She laid her hands on his shoulders, swept her leg perpendicular to his, catching him in the knees, slamming him on his back with a resounding squelch.

Not to be outdone, Draco stretched out his arm, knocking her off her feet, moving swiftly to cover her body with his.

A fierce tussle ensued, covering them both with mud. "Bastard!" cried Ginny.

"Surely you can think of something more inventive to call me, Weasley? After all, you do like to practice insulting me at every opportunity," came the rejoinder.

"You murderous, evil, snarky, poncy, pricky GIT! Bloody buggering hell, how on earth did such a cruel personality become stuck in such a body!?"

"So you admit you find me attractive, eh, Red?" he asked, resting all his weight on her. She ran her hands though his hair, streaking the platinum locks with dirt.

"Very," she murmured, with a smirk that rivaled his.

For some reason he felt like laughing. It was so bloody ridiculous. Here he was, rolling about on the ground with the littlest weasel, and she was telling him he was hot!

She shoved him, rolling them over, straddling his hips. She was startled, though, when he did indeed begin to laugh, his chest rising painfully under her weight, tears rolling down his cheeks. She stared at him, open-mouthed.

Finally, he calmed down enough to form words. "What say you to a truce, Weaselette? You know I'm not a death eater, I know you're a wildcat. What say you to stopping the 'death-eater' shit, and sticking to the normal, generic stuff…like rolling in mud?"

"What the fuck has got into you?"

"I don't swing that way, Weaslette. I'm just sick of fighting with you – maliciously, I mean. Fighting with Weasley is all well and good; that's just natural. But you – you have spirit. I like it."

She stared at him blankly. "You want a truce."

"Ya, just thought you might be interested. Of course we'd still spar, and tussle as much as you want."

"You're odd," she observed.

Just think, right now, you're brother's having kittens thinking about what you're doing, sitting here, straddling me, and talking to me, no less. Think how more interesting it could be if we became allies…friends, of sorts."

He flashed her a smirk, which she returned.

"You're on"

"Good" he replied, just before he cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her face down to his. His thin, hot lips moved against hers, his tongue probing the slit, seeking entrance. She struggled, opening her mouth in protest, her cries silenced by his talented tongue. Slipping, sliding over hers, she quickly succumbed to his kiss. Gods, she'd never felt anything like it. Searing, hot, yet controlled. Not sloppy and insecure like Dean's. Or Harry's, for that matter.

She began to respond, her tongue battling against his, pushing. A battle of wills.

The insinuation of penetration was not lost on either of them.

She pulled away, her lips just touching his.

"We have an audience, you know"

"Fuck them." He replied, pulling her down to him again, her hair obscuring the details of their activities.

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A/N: Almost-PWP. Review, Readers, or die!!! cue stalinesque music I must Thank the Keeperofthepineneedles for her review of 'Stale Baguette.' My very first...(am i making the rest of you jealous? You should be...). While you're at it, go read Keeper's fics. And make sure you review hers!! 


	2. Float My Boat

A/N: I've had a few calls for a sequel to Dirty Truce, so here it is. I'm thinking that I will continue this as a series of short vignettes. Need I remind all the government authorities that have nothing better to do than read fanfiction, I do not own or lay any claim over any of these characters. Once I find the loophole however…

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**Float My Boat**

Well, that was one for the history books, Draco thought. A Slytherin snogging a Gryffindor. A Slytherin forming a peace treaty with a Gyffindor. A Slytherin laughing with a Gryffindor. Could the Weaslette truly be classified a Gryffindor? That was the question…

As he sat down in the Great Hall, nearly every Slytherin sidled away from him. Not so obviously that they would incur his infamous wrath, but with just enough contempt in their glares to tell him they were royally pissed off.

Draco slid closer to the boy on his right, smiling serenely. That always got a good reaction. If they were going to get all huffy over a stupid game he might as well take advantage of it. Intimidating little ones was always an enjoyable pastime.

And yes they were getting huffy. But so was everyone else, it seemed. The Weaslette had just walked calmly into the Hall and sat down in her usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Weasley senior had followed her in, yelling in her ear the entire time.

'Malfoy? Ginny! It's Malfoy, the ferrety gitty git. A slimy Slytherin. A ferrety Death Eater!'

'Ronald, Draco is not a death eater. He showed me so himself. And you're right. He is a ferret. Ferrets and weasels are so similar, its almost as if it was meant to be…' She looked up dreamily at her fuming brother. He really was too easy to provoke.

'Ginny! It's Malfoy! Merlin, it's started already! I should put you under a hose, wash all those Malfoy boogies off you. You've been tainted," he cried. 'No one will want you now!!!'

'Nonsense, Ronald,' she said as she buttered her bread. 'I can assure you, that whatever it was Draco and I were doing did not involve nasal fluids. And besides, Harry still wants me.' She smiled at the beet-red boy. 'Don't you, Harry.'

'Bwah huu harr wha?' came the intelligent reply. Ron was making an odd strangle noise. He didn't know whether to be grateful that Harry could take his sister out of Malfoy's hands, or if he should be repulsed by the thought of his best mate handling his baby sister!

'Oh, I'm sorry, sweet. Have I embarrassed you?' she leaned over and pinched Harry's cheek. 'Forgive me, but I only ever liked you for your body. And to be honest, that was years ago, and you're hands just can't compete with Draco's…you know what they say about men with large hands, don't you, Harry?' she smirked evilly – this was such fun!

'Ginny!' yelled Ron, covering his ears. The whole room stared as he did a little dance. 'My mind! I can't believe you're thinking about Malfoy's penis. I can't believe _I'm _thinking about Malfoy's penis!'

Even Peeves was staring at the redheaded boy as if he was wearing Snape's underpants. The smear-tracks alone…

It was his time to act. Standing, Draco put on his evilest, most attractive smirk, before walking to the Gryffindor table. He could basically hear all the girls swoon. He wrapped his arms around Ginny's waist, letting them come to rest just under the curve of her breasts.

'Weasley, I had no idea you felt that way. Unfortunately for you, it's Red here who floats my boat. Though I hear Goyle's looking…GOYLE!!' he shouted. 'Weasley here wants you! Come and get him!'

The large boy looked up from the leg of mutton he had been devouring cave-man style, his beady, watery eyes avidly searching out his prey. Suddenly, his head stopped scanning the room. 'Come on boy, get him. Get him!' came Draco's voice coaxingly. The noise was coming from so far away…so distant…so…

And he was off. With surprising speed, Gregory Goyle bee-lined for the terrified red head. Ron backed away theatrically before screaming like a little girl and sprinting out the door.

Ginny looked at Draco in wonder.

'That was so cruel.'

'Yeah, Malfoy, look what you've done,' piped up Harry rather feebly. Draco glared at him, his arms still wrapped around Ginny's waist. She was still staring wide-eyed at Draco.

'You just defended me – defended my honour – against my brother. Oh!' the girl flushed noticeably, turning in his arms to lace her hands flat against his chest.

'Ginny!'

'Did you like that, Red?'

'Ginny! Don't! Don't do it! Don't kiss him!!!'

'I shall kiss whom so ever pleases me, Harry. And right now, Draco pleases me…' and with that, she fiercely tugged Draco's ready lips down to meet her own. Her hands were trapped between them, and she could feel his flat nipples peak as she attacked his mouth, her tongue assaulting his in a wave of passion. She could feel him tighten his grip on her as she began to feel weak-kneed, increasing the depth of his exploration of her body.

'Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, while I admire the formation of inter-house relationships,' suggested the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling merrily, 'perhaps you two could…how do you say…'get a room'?'

The two hadn't even bothered to detach themselves from one another at their Headmaster's words. Draco simply nodded, muttered 'yes sir' out of the corner of his mouth, and started moving Ginny over to the door. Their migration was made easier when she wrapped her legs around his hips.

The whole room was still staring. Though some were now laughing at Harry, who had melted down the wall in a sea of frustration and regret and disgust. He was all red and puffy. He looked like something nasty had bitten him.

He blanched when the breathy 'oh, Draco' reached his ears from the hall leading to the Slytherin common room.

'Well,' began Dumbledore cheerily. 'I think that's enough entertainment for tonight. Anyone for-'

At that moment, the doors to the great hall sprang open to reveal a very harassed looking Ron Weasley, the besotted Goyle hot on his trail. Weasley was fun, Goyle had decided. No one usually put up this much of a fight.

Ron ran through the room, even leaping over the Hufflepuff table at one stage. Goyle followed his every step. The first years scrambled out of his way, praying to every god they knew to protect them from this rampaging possessed hippopotamus.

After that brief interlude, Ron, still screaming, streamed out the door. The door, strangely sentient, waited for Goyle to pass before slamming itself shut.

Dumbledore stared, his arm still raised.

'Anyone for treacle pudding?'

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A/N: thank you SkyTreader52, harrypotterchick4ever, Miah Maddy, headoverheels4HP, and 3250, for reviewing The Dirty Truce. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know you liked it. You guys pwn the world. 


	3. Dark Purpose

A/N: nope, don't own anything. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I now have 13!!

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Darker Purpose

Ginny sighed into the kiss. It was amazing really, how good he was. She and Draco hadn't stopped snogging since they had left the Great Hall. Considering they were now in Draco's private Head Boy room, and considering Draco had been blind and otherwise occupied, that was quite and achievement.

Draco broke the kiss to mutter the password to his room. It sounded odd, Ginny thought. She didn't know much Latin, but what she could understand…

'What did that – Oh! - mean?' she asked breathlessly.

'Wha?' asked Draco. His lips were teasing the sensitive spot on her neck, just below her ear.

'The – password!' she gasped.

'Dropbear hunts knackered Bushmen.' At her silence he continued. 'My mother went to Australia once. Apparently Dropbears are these giant things that fling themselves from the trees onto unsuspecting travelers. No one would guess it, especially in Latin.'

'True.' She admitted. She slid down his thighs and entered his room.

'So this is where you live.' She said, scanning the room with her eyes. It was decked in green and silver on black. It was surprisingly cosy. For some reason the fire was already on, casting flaming patterns on the walls and ceiling.

'Ya. Home sweet home,' he said, flopping down in one of the wingbacks by the fireplace. Ginny sat gingerly into the other, before relaxing into its cushy folds.

'What have I done now?' Draco asked. She gave him a wary look.

'What do you mean?'

Draco frowned. 'My lap was good enough before.' His frown deepened when his words sunk in and she doubled over in laughter.

'You – You – you're jealous…of a CHAIR!' She wiped a couple of tears from her eyes theatrically.

'No!' he said, crossing his arms defensively. 'I…I' Ginny stared at his furiously blushing face.

'Oh come _on_ Draco,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'You can cut the crap now. You've pissed the Trio off, and I won Gryffindor the game. Even Steven, wouldn't you say?'

'Won the game?' he murmured confusedly. 'Won the g- oh you little bitch.' He jumped up from the chair, and stalked over to her, fists clenched. He loomed over her, fit to burst, before abruptly turning and stalking away.

'Won the game. Taken in by a – Was the only reason you…kissed…me to win the game?' He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

'Of course!' She exclaimed incredulously. 'Oh my god. You're hurt, aren't you?' She stood up, and moved closer to him.

'You HYPOCRITE! You're insulted because I tricked you, when you _survive_ on manipulation.' Incensed, Ginny took a swing at his back. 'So you can get to piss everyone off, but I don't get to play as well? Is that how it is? Huh, big boy? Huh?'

She took another swing at him, but at that moment, he turned around. Her fist collided with his nose, and he ricocheted back, blood spurting everywhere.

'By dose! By dose! Du boke by dose!!' Blood was still streaming out of his nose, running through his fingers in molten rivulets.

Oh fuck thought Ginny. Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck fuck

Fuck.

Oh and fuck it some more.

What had she done? She'd broken the King of Slytherin's nose! She'd broken the head boy's nose!

She was so screwed.

But so was he, she thought. She really should help him. And quickly too, by the looks of it.

'Uhh…Pomfrey. Now! Floo. Fireplace. Draco.'

He seemed to get her message (somehow). She grabbed the whole bag of Floo powder from its hook on the mantle, threw it in, shoved him in, and called out her destination.

They landed in the infirmary with a splat. Draco had landed on his face, and his nose was not happy. He howled in pain as the floor turned an interesting shade of red.

Ginny was panicking, frantically asking the poor boy if he was alright. It was only later she would admit to herself how stupid this had been.

At all the noise, Madame Pomfrey ran out of her office. Assessing the situation, she hit Draco upside the head, knocking him out, before grabbing her wand and levitating him onto a bed. She swept the curtain closed around the cubicle, throwing a dirty look at the red-haired red-stained girl, as if Ginny had personally set out to hurt her when she had hurt Draco.

Which was complete rubbish of course. She'd been trying to hurt Draco.

Ginny stared at the billowing curtains morosely before sitting down on a bench to wait.

She didn't have to wait long.

Only _two hours_ later, Draco emerged looking as happy as Larry, chocolate frog in mouth. He was chatting away to Madame Pomfrey, and Ginny suspected they had been chatting for a good one and half hours.

They were all out to get her.

Draco's face fell as he caught sight of her. He bid Pomfrey goodbye, and walked out the door. He didn't look at her again.

Ginny stared after him, and was about to follow, when fingers twisted her ear. She didn't have time to cry out before a chubby hand was clamped over her mouth.

'Hurt him again, and I swear, I'll rib your bloody arms off. He's mine! Mine….my precious.'

And with that, the portly matron shoved the little redhead unceremoniously out the door.

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Umm…oh bugger…what was it? Something about dropbears…dropbears…traveler…ah!

Ginny whispered the password to Draco's private quarters, and peered inside the room. She couldn't see him, but nothing moved, so she opened the door a little wider, and slipped into the room.

'Draco?' she called hesitantly. 'Draco?'

'Come to finish me off have you?' came a voice from inside the hangings of the monstrously plush bed.

Ginny went over to the bed and pushed aside the velvet curtains. Draco was lying supine on the bed. She shifted nervously. What was she going to say?

'Come to say goodbye, huh? Come to tell me you want to hook up on the day of the next game? Come to break another part of me?' He still hadn't moved.

'I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to hurt you…'

At that he cracked open an eye.

'Ok, yes, I did want to hurt you, but I didn't want to draw blood! I promise.'

'Ok. Good.' He said, closing his eye. 'You can go now,' He dismissed when she didn't move.

It occurred to Ginny that he really was hurt. Draco Malfoy. Hurt because she had dismissed him.

Maybe she had broken more than his nose.

Well, she couldn't have that, now, could she? Maybe Madam Pomfrey, the interfering cow, would come and comfort the sore boy. Ooh…if she ever encountered that witch anywhere outside school, she'd…Merlin she was jealous of an old roly-poly matron! If even Pomfrey could pull, Ginny needed to seriously work on her skills.

But back to Draco and his feelings.

Draco had feelings.

For her.

Well.

Fuck.

'Are you going somewhere, Weasley?'

Weasley? He hadn't called her Weasely in almost 6_ hours_. She felt her chest constrict. She wished it wouldn't. It would only complicate things.

But it couldn't complicate things any more than they already were. Or at least, any more than they were going to become.

Could it?

Screw that.

Without another thought, she bent down and connected her lips to his.

For a second, he didn't respond. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she didn't make another move.

Then, he started to kiss her tentatively and she responded in kind. It was soft, sweet and chaste. A fire started low in her belly as he thrust his hands through her hair. She moaned, running her tongue along the seam of his lips, asking for entrance. He gave it, and she was officially drowning.

She suddenly found herself lying on his mattress, with him nestled between her thighs. How she had ended up in that position, she wasn't quite sure…but she didn't care all that much. He felt so good, right where she wanted him, his hard member pressing into her whenever he moved.

And he was moving a lot. He was kissing and touching her everywhere, as she was he. Neither could sate the other. Buttons popped, and zips were removed. Shirts fluttered to the floor, and shoes were unceremoniously kicked off.

The pair spoke no words. They weren't needed. Not yet, anyway. There was plenty of time come morning. For now, all they needed was each other, for that was all they had.

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A/N: Snaps to anyone who spotted the '**My Aunty Jack**' reference. And to those who know what a dropbear is (vicious little things – they got a relative of a schoolmate of mine). If you didn't spot the **LOTR** reference, you have way too much to do…

Remember: Read & review!!


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